


can somebody who's never sat down to fully watch spn write a more satisfying conclusion to dean and cas' whole thing than the actual show runner

by kingtransdrew



Category: Supernatural
Genre: I wrote this in half an hour out of sheer spite, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-24
Updated: 2020-11-24
Packaged: 2021-03-09 23:40:29
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 511
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27694268
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kingtransdrew/pseuds/kingtransdrew
Summary: vote now on ur phones
Relationships: Castiel/Dean Winchester
Comments: 4
Kudos: 28





	can somebody who's never sat down to fully watch spn write a more satisfying conclusion to dean and cas' whole thing than the actual show runner

**Author's Note:**

> I have never sat down and actually watched Supernatural all the way through. I have seen a handful of episodes. All my knowledge is from tumblr and I have no idea what happens between season 10 and the last three episodes of season 15. Shoutout to everyone who invested real time in this show cause wow did it come and fuck you over.
> 
> Anyways here's my spiteful attempt at giving Dean and Cas a more satisfying and actually existing conclusion because I told a friend I could do it and decided to actually follow through. I wrote this in half an hour. I think Supernatural should pay me reparations for emotional damage for that finale cause I don't even properly go here but I was attacked. 
> 
> Enjoy, let me know if I accomplished what paid writers could not.

It starts with a hug. A fierce, clinging thing that says _welcome back_ and _thank whoever’s fucking listening that you’re ok_ and _I missed you so much._ Dean’s hands ball into fists clenching the material of his jacket and Castiel digs his fingers into his shoulder blades and they just _hold._ Hold like they’re trying to tattoo the folds of their clothes and the places they touch onto their skin. 

It’s Castiel who breaks the quiet. _“Dean-“_ He says, quickly, like at any moment the Empty will come and rip him away again, like he can’t get his name out fast enough.

But it’s Dean who pulls back, grabs him by the shoulders. Dean looks at him, eyes searching his face, jaw locked against the stormy sea of emotions currently being etched into every line of his expression. “You-“ He starts, has to stop and clear his throat, “Back then. You said a lot of stuff. You said-“ He has to pause again. His expression is impossible to read, “You said you- you _love_ me.” 

“Yes.” Castiel replies as a smile fights its way onto his face.

“Did you-“ Dean looks so uncertain, so disbelieving, so… is that hope? Somewhere in behind his eyes? “Did you mean it like- like-“

_“Yes.”_ Castiel breathes, fully smiling now. Because whatever the outcome here is, at least he got to say it. He never dared dream he’d have that much.

“I-“ Dean grip slackens, but he doesn’t let go, “Cas-“ 

“Dean, I think we-“ Castiel starts to take a small step back, only for Dean to tighten his grip again. He pauses, taken aback by the gesture, before Dean reaches up and he doesn’t so much as cup his cheek as he does grab him. Roughly, because Dean has never been the gentlest of men, but it’s so very him.

Every uncertainty seems to vanish from Dean’s expression and suddenly he has never looked more sure in Castiel’s eyes than he does in this moment. _“Shut up.”_ He tells him, and then he pulls him in, and Castiel goes willingly.

It’s nothing like a happily ever after type kiss. It’s rough; it’s fierce and emotional because neither of them have been gentle souls in a very long time but it’s a kiss that’s very _them_ and ultimately that’s what makes it their own brand of perfect. Spontaneous and clumsy and they both forget to breathe and it’s _perfect._

It’s Castiel who pulls away first; out of breath and struggling to steady his breathing like a man who’s just surfaced from the depths of the ocean. Dean isn’t much better; he looks at him with lidded eyes and parted lips as his shoulders rise and fall with every breath he takes.

“Cas,” Dean’s voice is rough, heavy, “I think we need to talk.” And it’s about the most obvious thing he could’ve possibly said in that moment.

Castiel nods. And then he grabs the collar of Dean’s stupid flannel and pulls him in so he can kiss his stupid lips again. 

They can talk later.


End file.
